PLEASE BELIEVE ME–a villanelle
by April Halprin Wayland
Did I pretend? Perhaps a dream…or was it true?
Thirteen. I was thirteen. It was July.
I swear I didn’t make it up…that night I flew.
The whole world slept, yes, all the birds, and even you.
I rose from bed, I raised the curtain, then I cried.
Did I pretend? Perhaps a dream…or was it true?
Something small, some fragrant flower the moon turned blue
pulled me that way—I don’t know why—I went outside.
I swear I didn’t make it up…that night I flew.
My nightgown filled, I lifted off, by then I knew.
I held it fast, I smelled it deep, I closed my eyes.
Did I pretend? Perhaps a dream…or was it true?
I thought of who would take my word—not even you.
That summer night my barefeet sailed the blackened sky.
I swear I didn’t make it up…that night I flew.
I promise everything I’ve written here is true.
By morning my whole life had changed—I can’t say why.
Did I pretend? Perhaps a dream…or was it true?
I swear I didn’t make it up…that night I flew.
(c) 2011 April Halprin Wayland, all rights reserved
The story behind the poem:
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I realize that this villanelle is crazy-corny, but hey, we’re all friends here, right? When I was about thirteen, I padded outside on a warm summer night wearing my Lanz flannel nightgown, picked a small cluster of white flowers from the bush by our gate, breathed in their sweet smell…and flew. It was so real and so wonder-filled, I’ve never been able to get it out of my head.
Do you know the name of this bush?
These are the flowers that made me fly.